It’s hard to think of you,

because it didn’t work,

it didn’t last,

and the silence between us tells me that this is it.

I have to force myself to see you,

and bring you back into the forefront of my mind.

I never thought that would be possible.


Perhaps I’m being melodramatic.

Spilling words on the floor for effect.

Watching them mix and intertwine the same as we did,

in bed, in the car, on the stairs, on the kitchen counter.

I don’t know if the fond memories hurt more than the painful ones,

or if they hurt more than a lack of you,

and us,

kissing our goodnights.

But when I do think of you I get to smile for a moment,

even if its brief,

a flash of your eyes,

you and me.

Bad Omens

I’m writing you a memory.  So far the bad out numbers the good, but I’m trying to remedy that.  It took a little bit of work coming up with something to tip the scales slightly the other way.  I don’t know if that’s a bad omen.

Maybe you being only a memory is bad enough.


There was this girl I used to know, her name was Lisa.  She came to me out of nowhere really. I wrote into a local pen pal exchange and after a few failed attempts at finding a connection I found her, and I think I loved her more purely than anybody I have ever loved.  It wasn’t a trashy, vulgar, sexual hunger type of love where I wanted to rip her clothes off and throw our bodies together. It was an unadulterated love of her personality and the person I believed she was. I was moved enough to start writing for her.  I didn’t realize I was actually writing until she told me how she was in tears while reading it. She was the most elegant muse in that I didn’t realize what she brought forward in me until she told me how much it moved her.

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Because I Think I Love You

Of all of the things that can happen in the world
Falling in love is the best and the worst
If you don’t know whether you are in love or not, you aren’t
but you can be
If you feel like you are in the midst of love, you are
but you may not be
And in this quandary of yes and no is where I find myself with you
with the maybes floating like dandelions in the summer
Is it possible to love someone you don’t really know?
Yes, because I love you
I love how you use only just enough words
Conciseness dominating the verbose
Your silence hiding thought, depth and suspense
Holding its next reveal with anticipation
I love your quiet elegance
Draped seemingly without care but always impeccable
I love you, or I think I do love you
Because you never leave my mind for long
A stretch of time only reaches so far and turn the leaves color over so often
Before I think of you and smile as it were yesterday that I thought these thoughts last
Do I love you still then?  Or did I ever?
Can you love someone you never did but only realize it after?
These cravings never known until well beyond the time they should have been felt
This appetite now present when the hunger should have been long ago
Or were they known all along but hidden in the lulls
And when they rise back like a heat wave unable to remember a time without the humidity
The only way to cool myself is at your lips
The only breeze coming from your words
Do you love someone if you don’t love them all the time?
Every second of every day you’ve known them.
I believe its possible because I have loved you
And then I haven’t until I have loved you again
And even though you will never love me and my love for you will never be more than an idea I think I might have
I will love you every time I see you and I will remember it as if it never left

The End, Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.

She was necessary.
But never meant to last.
Stepping stones because she didn’t want to last.

Kissed fate.
Told fortune.
The only thing she needed to do was wake the dormant:

The feelings
The emotions
and you.

She didn’t want to last,
a self-fulfilling prophecy.
One foot out of the door,
one eye on the exit.

(but my god the sins she could pull from me,
and the depravity she did,
and the debauchery we shared,
will never be forgotten.)

To get to the point where it all comes out.
A cross between the two yous.
Before her,
and after her.

She was never going to be forever.
She was a one night stand that stayed a little longer than usual.
Her thinking, not mine.
She always found her way out though,

I’m No Gardener

I’m a garden for every word you’ve ever told me.  Every look you ever gave me was a seed that you pressed into my soil.  Every time you said you loved me something else was planted deep inside my being.  Only you could grow a bed of dirt into something beautiful.
Whenever your tears fell on my neck the seeds grew.  With every kiss of rain you nourished what you planted and made it strong.  The sweat we made together drenched my skin and pushed the stems higher.  You make me grow and never want to stop.

But you only planted roses, as stunning as they are.  A flowerbed full of roses and every color they come in.  The roses, they have thorns, did you think of that when you dropped your seeds in me?  The sharp prick of their tips digging at my skin as I pull up the ones you left.
You left.
These roses you planted aren’t all gone.  Their pretty petals and sweet smells stay with me and I welcome them.  Although, once in a while, I try to prune the wildness of their growth and the thorns stick in my skin and make me bleed.  Other times I just let them run rampant across my garden and swallow every corner.

Such a pretty bed flowers you left for me.  Each rose holds its own bite.

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